


Decoffinated

by st1nkf1nger



Category: Repugnant (Band)
Genre: Blood Drinking, F/M, Human/Vampire Relationship, Other, Vampire Bites
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:07:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25799434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/st1nkf1nger/pseuds/st1nkf1nger
Summary: So what if Mary Goore is a vampire? It doesn't mean he can't love you, it just means he's got a strict diet. No different than dating a vegan, really. When he gets injured and he can't hunt for himself, however, things become a little more complicated.
Relationships: Mary Goore/Reader
Kudos: 33





	Decoffinated

“Mary, _please,”_ you beg, and you begin rolling up your sleeve. “You need to _eat."_

“No,” he snaps stubbornly, gritting his teeth around the word until it becomes a snarl. “Not like this. Not from you.” Even as he says it, his nostrils flare. The scent of your blood has an immediate effect on him—his eyes blacken and his fangs begin to extend, sharp and deadly. A low, feral hiss escapes him, terrible and animalistic, and you freeze in place. Before he can stop himself, he takes a step forward, and then seems to regain control.

“I’m not going to sit here and watch you do this to yourself!” Mercifully, your voice doesn’t come out in a terrified squeak. Cautiously, you approach him, one step at a time. “You can’t _heal_ until you feed!” 

It’s been like this for a few days, ever since he had clumsily fallen into through your window in the middle of the night. Under normal circumstances, his entrance into your home is silent. Like a shadow, he steals in through your open window and slides into your bed, his lips warm on your neck and his hands cold on your skin.

But these are not normal circumstances. 

Recently, he stumbled into your window, bleeding and weakened. Injured in a tussle with a local vampire hunter, Mary had made his way back to your home. He’d managed to escape with his life, but only just, and now he’s too fragile to hunt. You’ve done your best to steal blood bags from the hospital where you work as a nurse, but you can’t risk it anymore. The other staff are beginning to get suspicious. This is literally his only option. Well, there is another _other_ option—death—but you’re not even entertaining that one.

“I’m not fuckin’ doing this,” he spits savagely, withdrawing another step. “You don’t know what you’re goddamn asking.” 

His body language _screams_ for you to back the fuck off, but you were never very smart. In fact, you’re probably about as stubborn as he is.

“I’m not _asking_ anything, Mary,” you reply calmly, taking another step closer. “I’m _going_ to help you, whether you like it or not. Just… let me. Please.”

As you slowly close the distance, he makes no move to step away this time. Every muscle in his lean body taut, however, and his dark eyes are trained on your face. His fangs are fully extended now, dripping with venom as he breathes heavily.

“I don’t want to _hurt_ you,” he says, in a rough, tortured voice. “I’m a fuckin’ monster, and I don’t wanna do this to you.”

Your heart squeezes a little at the sadness to his voice. Gently, you guide him to sit on the sofa. He obeys without question now, seemingly broken at last by his ceaseless, aching hunger inside him. You slide into his lap, straddling his lean thighs, and bring your wrist to his lips.

“It’s _okay._ I want to. Please, baby. Drink.”

His expression is nothing short of agonized as you press your soft, yielding flesh to his mouth. For a moment, he turns his head away again, brows furrowed, jaw muscles jumping with restraint. But you both know he can’t resist forever. Suddenly, he’s grabbing your arm in his vice-like grip, holding it firmly against his lips. As his fangs pierce your skin and hot blood spurts into his eager mouth, you bite back your gasp of pain, transforming it into a moan at the last moment. Your fingers clench hard on his shoulder. His venom, as he’s explained before, does its work mercifully quick—soon the pain ebbs, replaced instead by a tingling numbness that sends a wave of endorphins washing over you.

As he drinks deep of you, a low growl escapes him, and his eyes flutter closed. When he’s had his fill—for now, at least—he pulls back an inch, breathing heavily. Blood, red and vibrant against his anemic skin, collects at the corners of his mouth, dripping down his chin and onto the front of his shirt. He never was very neat. Almost immediately, the feeding brings color to his cheeks, and his eyes lighten from black to a deep, mossy green. Swallowing hard, he lifts his chin to look you in the eye.

You feel woozy and slightly delirious now, but Mary’s skin is warm beneath your fingers, and his eyes are tender as they regard you. Fuck, he’s so _pretty._

You remember the first time you saw him, in the low light of that club with the music pulsing so deep and hard that you could feel it in your chest. Despite the multitude of much hotter bodies surrounding him that night, he had eyes for only you. Oozing that kind of rough charm that just made you melt, he talked you up, he flirted with you, and at the end of the night, he’d pulled you into the bathroom and fingered you so good you could barely walk. You tried to reciprocate, but he only brushed away your hand and kissed you deep. The little nibble to your bottom lip made a lot more sense once you connected all the dots. Since then, he’s been creeping into your bedroom window on the regular, but this is the first time he’s ever drank from you.

“Kiss me, Mary,” you say, leaning closer until your nose brushes against his. “Please, I want to—”

“I got blood all over my mouth,” he says, his eyelids drooping at your proximity, and his hand squeezes lightly around your wrist. “And you’re still—”

“Don’t care,” you mumble, swaying a little in his lap. You feel as if you’ve just had a fifth of tequila and a bourbon chaser. You’re warm all over and your skin is buzzing with desire. A desperate whine escapes you, and you rock your hips against his, seeking friction. “Want you, Mare. Need you inside me. Fuck me… fuck me. Please, I—”

“It’s the venom, babydoll. It can make you a little loopy,” he says gently, but he doesn’t try to stop your wriggling. His eyes are hooded—dark with lust instead of _blood_ lust now—and his fangs are still extended. “Are you sure—?”

You’re already clumsily shucking off your shirt and tossing it carelessly to the floor. Your wrist is beginning to throb a little, but you can’t bring yourself to fucking care. With a moan, you crash your lips into his, tasting the salt of your own blood on his tongue. A quiet rumble of pleasure escapes him, and his fangs scrape gently against your lips—just enough to remind you of their existence. You find yourself rocking in his lap, desperate for more friction.

“Mary, please,” you mumble, drunk on his kisses and his touch and the feel of his hardening cock between your legs. 

“You’re so fuckin’ warm, sweets. And you smell so goddamn _good...”_ he says, his voice pitching low into a growl, and his sharp mouth connects with your collarbone. 

Another pinch, and distantly, you’re aware he’s broken your skin again. You moan aloud, head tipped back, while that tingling endorphin rush courses through you once more, washing over you like a tidal wave. A carnal snarl rips from his chest as he devours your essence like a starved dog, breathing hard through his nose. With arousing ease, he turns and cages you beneath him on the couch, his hips nestled between your thighs. His wet mouth moves from your collarbone to your neck, smearing a trail of red along the way.

“Mare, yes, there, I want you, _I need you.”_ The words fall from your mouth in an endless stream of barely-coherent praise. The venom is potent; you feel drunk and sloppy but you have never wanted him more.

With another stinging pinch at your pulse point, he feeds deeply from your neck while grinding himself against you maddeningly, and another rush of endorphins has your cunt throbbing with need. You whine in distress, prompting him to work his hand beneath the waistband of your pants.

“Mm, that pussy’s soaked, doll,” he purrs, his voice a low, animalistic hiss in your ear that has goosebumps washing over you in waves. “You want me to taste it or fuck it?”

“Fuck it,” you say with a whine, rolling your hips against his palm. “Want you inside me, Mare… fill me up. Want your cock.”

A low growl escapes him as his sharp teeth clamp down onto the preexisting wound he left on your neck. He drinks again; your eyes roll back in your head and you cling to him, panting and moaning and whining your way through it.

“I’m gonna fuck you up, buttercup,” he says quietly, and you can hear the shit-eating grin on his red lips.

_“Please.”_

He sits back on his heels and you can see him fully at last. In the semi-dark living room, you can barely make out his pale frame, illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the curtains. Even in your envenomed, woozy state, you can appreciate just how fucking _pretty_ he is. The long lines of blood dribble down from his lips, along the white column of his lean, muscular throat, and onto the front of his shirt. With a deep, satisfied rumble, he tips his head back and drags his tongue across his red-rimmed mouth, savoring the taste of you. He’s breathing hard, clearly lost in the sensation of his feeding, and you whine impatiently beneath him.

Suddenly, his eyes snap back to you, predatory and gleaming. A thrill chases through you. The knowledge that he could snap your neck with a flick of his wrist if he really wanted to excites you more than it should.

“So fuckin’ pretty like this, kitten,” he says. With sudden impatience, he tugs on your bra sharply, there’s a ripping sound, and he tosses the ruined garment carelessly away. “Covered in blood, begging for this dick. Vampire’s wet dream.” He leans down, his mouth connects just above your nipple. You moan as he bites there, too, drinking briefly before pulling off.

He hastily removes his shirt. It and your bottoms—both undies and pants in one swoop, which are unceremoniously ripped from your legs—join the other clothes on the floor. In your fumbling, you manage to free his stiff cock at long last. Can’t be bothered to take off his jeans; you just push down the waistband of his “bite me”-print boxers. 

Your heart swells at the sight of them. You gave them as a gift after he’d revealed his true nature to you, to show that you weren’t afraid of him. A little smile curves your lip.

Mary drops back down to you, bracing his weight on his palms. With tender, love-drunk eyes, he captures your mouth in a sweet kiss, rumbling with pleasure as your hands inch towards his boxers. Eagerly, you seek out his cock, now flush and pretty and hot as a brand in your palm. Using the pre that’s beaded at the tip, you give him a few strokes, delighting in his ragged gasps. This powerful, deadly, _beautiful_ creature, coming undone at your hands is a rush like nothing else. All drugs pale in comparison.

“Fuck, baby, gonna cum if you keep that up,” he says, in a shaky voice. He gives an abortive twitch of his hips, moaning desperately as your hand continues on his cock.

“That a promise?”

“It’s a threat,” he growls, and pushes your hands away from his dick. 

After an eternity of waiting, he slides into you to the hilt, groaning through clenched teeth at the feel of your molten, silky cunt enveloping his cock. Growling deep and low in his throat, he presses his face into the crook of your neck, his mouth seals over your still-bleeding bite mark, and you feel that unmistakable rush of endorphins again. As he begins to fuck into you hard and fast and rough, he drinks deep, practically purring now. The added wooziness of his sharp kisses is enough to tip you over the edge almost immediately. 

“Mare, fuck, right there!” you cry out, digging your nails into his shoulder blades as you twitch and convulse with the power of your orgasm. “Don’t stop, don’t fucking stop, please, fuckfuckfuck—”

“If I stop now, honey, I’ll swallow a whole fuckin’ bulb of garlic.” He worms a hand down to swipe at your clit, grinning wolfishly as you squeal from overstimulation. “Fuck, look at you coming on this cock for me. So fuckin’ pretty… ffffuck, I’m gonna bust a nut all up in you, kitten, don’t you fuckin’ move.” His eyes gleam in the darkness, bright and purposeful now, drinking in your reactions like he did your blood.

Soon, both of you are at that cusp and falling over into the abyss together as one. He slows down just enough to coax out one more orgasm from your swollen pussy, his fingers clumsy with lust but all you need is a little push. With a desperate, keening moan, you clench _hard_ around him, and this is the last piece to the puzzle. With a snarl, he crashes his lips into yours and bites down on your lips, hard enough to draw blood. With a ragged whimper, he withdraws, his hips twitching against yours as his cock kicks inside you.

“Fffffuck, babydoll,” he grunts. “Ha… haha.” A quiet laugh escapes him and he grins down at you. “You got a goddamn vice grip on my dick.”

“Stay,” is all you can manage, holding onto his arms. You’re sore and exhausted, and your bites are beginning to throb, but you’re stubborn. The venom’s potency is starting to wane, but it still has you in his thrall.

“No, sweetness,” he says gently, his eyes tender as they regard you. “You’re still fuckin’ bleeding. Let me take care of those wounds, okay?”

A low, pathetic whine escapes you as Mary gives you a swift, loving kiss and pulls away. Quickly, he does up his pants, and scoops you with ease into his arms. Between the venom and the multiple orgasms, you’re like putty in his arms, malleable and soft. While you come down from that heady apex, he gingerly wipes your skin clean. Sometimes, it comes in the form of his tongue, licking and sucking away every little drop of blood that’s dried on you. A tiny, horny part of you awakens at this, and you reach for him, but he knows your limits better than you do. Chuckling, he presses a kiss to your temple, gently pushes your hands away, and bandages your wounds. When he brings you to your bed, he seems content to leave you to rest.

“Stay…” you plead softly, as he tucks you beneath the comforter. The venom’s grip on you is loosening, and now you’re just tired, but still you need him. “Give me cuddles.”

“Okay, okay, baby, I ain’t going anywhere,” he huffs out a soft chuckle as he slides into bed behind you, his arms moving around your middle to squeeze you to his chest. “Thank you for… you know.”

“Mm. I’m your little blood bag,” you say, giggling. You roll around to face him, and tuck yourself into his tight embrace, your head beneath his chin. 

“Christ, don’t fuckin’ say that,” he says, but his voice is fondly exasperated. He squeezes you. “I don’t plan on making this a habit.”

“You could, though. I wanna be your ketchup packet.”

“Oh, my fuckin’ _god,_ baby.” He laughs at that, his whole body shaking as he chuckles. “Go to sleep, you’re dumb as shit right now.” He kisses your forehead.

“Love you, Mare.”

“Love you, too, ketchup packet.”

**Author's Note:**

> filthy-rat.tumblr.com


End file.
